


A man from the past

by livia_bj



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Jealousy, M/M, Male Slash, Pre-Slash, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:34:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livia_bj/pseuds/livia_bj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day John got a visitor from the army. And old friend or...something else?<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	A man from the past

John removed the frying pan from the stove and at the very same moment his phone rang. He ran to the living room and frowned when he didn’t recognize the number on the screen. From the kitchen table, Sherlock growled some kind of protest over the distraction, without looking away from the microscope.

“Hello? Ehmm… No, I don’t know who you are. What? Phil? Oh, god, Phil! But how did you get this number? No! Don’t tell me that, I’m ashamed.” 

He laughed loudly. 

“Are you in London now? Secret misión? You damned lawyers, always wanted to be so mysterious. No, I will be at home this afternoon. Yes of course, you can come by any time. I’ll be here. Yes, yes. At once, Major!” 

He laughed again. 

“Okay, see you later, Phil.”

While John was on the phone, Sherlock put the microscope away intrigued by the conversation, and was now leaning on the frame door, watching him. John was grinning.

“Is that how you talk to your… friends? What a shame.”  
“If you have something to say…”  
“No. Why?”

And he proceeded to imitate John’s silly laugh over the phone.  
John rolled his eyes.

“This is how I talk with someone I have not heard from in a long time, someone I care and someone I wasn’t expecting a surprise call from, yes.”  
“Who was that?” Asked Sherlock, trying to hide a tiny jealous touch in his voice.

John licked his lips. The jealous shade in his flatmate’s voice didn’t escape him, and an idea was born in his mind: that day he would make Sherlock suffer a little.

“That was Major Phil Carver, from the United States Marine Corps.”  
“I thought you said he was a lawyer.”  
“Right. A Marine and a lawyer.”  
“And he is coming by this afternoon?”  
“It won’t be a long visit, don’t worry. Anyhow I won’t be able to go with you to the Bart’s today.”  
“Yes. I have heard you saying that you had free time today.” Sherlock turned round trying to hide a sarcastic tone.

John let himself a little smile now that the detective wasn’t looking at him.

“We met in Afghanistan, you know.”  
“Not interested.”  
“There was a row between a group of our soldiers and three from the States, that ended up with one of them seriously injured and one died of a stab wound. The Americans sent Phil to investigate what had happened. I was the doctor in charge, so I was a witness in the case. During the investigation Phil and I became friends, but we lost contact along the way, when I came back to London. I thought for some time about get in touch with Phil again, but I was ashamed about being crippled and useless.”  
“John, if I’d want to hear crappy soap operas I’d watch the TV”  
“Now that I think about it,” John carried on talking, “it’s as if I was destined to hang out with… investigators.”

Sherlock, now back to his microscope, snorted. 

Quietly John went back to the kitchen to finish preparing lunch. He knew the detective’s eyes were on him, and he knew he was intrigued and jealous. He felt a little bad about sticking to this plan, but… on the other hand, he only had few occasions to leave Sherlock stunned, so when those occasions came into his hands… he had to take advantage of them. Plus a payback from time to time was good for Sherlock too. So he forced himself to go ahead with the plan.  
He was seasoning the salad when he felt Sherlock’s body behind him, watching the food over his shoulder, squeezing him slightly against the counter. John swallowed.

“Are you going to eat today?”  
“I’m hungry.” The detective almost whispered in his ear.  
“Good. That’s good.”

Sherlock moved away and went back to his business. John closed his eyes and tried to relax. Hot and icy chills were running at the same time through his body. It was a dance that they had been dancing for a while now. Like two teens lost in a sea of mixed feelings. On one hand John felt good about it: the excitement of knowing or not knowing, the flirting, the furtive touches. It was like being young, very young, again. But he was scared of take it further for two reasons: firstly because he didn’t know if he was ready to… well, kiss a man – and Sherlock Holmes no less – and secondly because he wasn’t sure about what Sherlock really wanted.

Was he aware of all those intimate moments when, if only one of them would give a small step forward, they would stop being just friends? If he wasn’t aware, then John couldn’t take the risk. Oh! But he had to be! No one is so naive! Anyway, even if he was aware of it, there was nothing else indicating that Sherlock wanted to move things forward. Maybe he was also enjoying that weird and messy emotion clawing at his stomach, but he didn’t want anything else. And in that case, if John  
tried something… he could lose him.

Yes, it definitely was like being a teen lost in a sea of mixed emotions. Again. 

“I’m not going to Bart’s.”  
It took him a few seconds to realize that Sherlock had said that out loud.  
“Oh.” John hid a smile. “Why?”

Sherlock just shrugged and gave no answer. But he stood up and went to the living room to get the table ready for lunch. Or at least he put away books and papers to make a little extra space there. John let it go. Obviously it was Phil’s visit what was causing the strange behaviour in his friend.  
Trying not to feel too flattered by that, he grabbed the dishes and brought them to the table.  
…………………..  
They ate in a comfortable silence, none of them felt there was any need to fill it with small talk because communication between them always happened at another level.

“How are your cultures?” Asked John while he was fighting with his fork against a small cherry tomato that refused to be eaten.  
“Fine. I gave them names.”  
“That’s sweet.” 

John tried to attack the little tomato once more, but it decided to jump from the plate to the floor and roll under the table. “It seems it has committed suicide.”  
He was about to get up and catch it, but Sherlock was faster. Muttering a quiet “let me” he sneaked under the table. In a second John had the vision of what Sherlock could do to him from there if they were more than friends. He blushed and swallowed, ashamed of his own thoughts. Time seemed to stop. Surely the whole thing happened in only a few seconds, but it felt like hours to him.

“Wooohooo, guys!”  
Mrs Hudson knocked on the already open door, and announced her presence with singing voice.  
“Mrs Hudson!”  
“Oh, John, dear. Your face is so red. Where is Sherlock?”  
“Under here.”

As if it was the most natural thing in the world Sherlock emerged from under the table. And from Mrs Hudson’s angle of view, from between John’s legs. The good woman was speechless. John’s face turned even redder.

“It’s not what it seems!”  
“And what does it seem, John?” Sherlock asked with exaggerated innocence.

The doctor ignored him and rose quickly, still looking at their landlady.

“Look! My trousers are not even unzipped.”  
“Oh, my!”

Mrs Hudson fled downstairs. John just wanted the earth to swallow him.

“Excellent final touch, Doctor. Excellent.” Sherlock laughed as he sit at the table again.  
John clenched his fist and decided that the best move would be to ignore the whole scene. He looked at his friend.

“Tea?”  
“Of course.”  
…………………………….  
Sherlock went back to his experiment while John washed the dishes. He pretended to be very concentrated on the cultures, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about the incident at the table. The last thing he remembered was being under the table looking for the lost tomato. Then everything happened very fast and also very slow at the same time. He recalled a similar situation, almost in another life, with the only man who had made him feel something before, long before John. And suddenly there were images running through his mind, in which he saw himself approaching John, spreading his knees apart and placing himself between his legs, unzipping his trousers. He wasn’t sure if it really happened or if it was only his imagination, but he could remember his hand reaching towards him, ready to touch him, just at the same time Mrs Hudson – luckily – entered the scene. 

Frustrated, he jumped from the chair and in two long strides got to his room and closed the door behind him.  
He paced around the room before dropping himself on the bed. When he had first met John he had said to him that he was married to his job because it was the logical thing at the moment: they had just met, he was willing to move to Baker Street, and well…. It was true that back then the only priority in Sherlock’s life was the job. 

How was he supposed to think – even being an expert in that area – that this man was going to become the cornerstone of his life?  
How was he supposed to imagine that for a brief moment, in the pool, his world would be about to collapse at the possibility that John would have been a traitor?  
And that a few minutes later he would tremble at the idea that John, that ordinary – stubborn, brave man, might have died and leave him to how he was before- alone.  
No. Those variables weren’t part of the flatmate equation back then.

So Sherlock did what he thought it was the most logical thing in that situation; he declared himself married to his job. He stated the boundaries of the relationship.  
And then time passed by, and they had left behind the flatmate zone and settled in the friend zone. And it was too late to come home one day and say “hey John, I changed my mind.” So Sherlock had plunged himself into an unfamiliar territory for him: flirtation. Innocent at first, but every time a little more daring as John’s reactions could be classified as positive and even reciprocal. It was a dance that they both seemed to enjoy, yet there was something holding them back. Sherlock on one hand feared for himself – relationships were so complicated, so unknown to him, and usually they brought you too much suffering in exchange for so little – but on the other hand he also feared for John; it was clear that his friend enjoyed the flirting, but what if Sherlock tried something else and John got scared? He could lose him. John had never been with a man before.

However, who was that Phil guy? John made it clear that they were close friends, and that he hadn't wanted to get back in touch with him because he thought about himself as crippled and useless. That degree of self pity indicated a degree of intimacy between them. It was not only about being uncomfortable with meeting him, it was that he was ashamed of showing himself like that. Sherlock didn’t know yet what kind of relationship John had with him, but a wave of frozen rage invaded him at the thought of John with another man. It was something that ordinary people knew as jealousy. Seeing the doctor dating women made him angry, but somehow it wasn’t as infuriating as imagining him with another man. Losing him for a woman… was painfully reasonable, unfortunately. But losing him for a man was simply intolerable. Sherlock had to be, should be, the only man in his life. 

He growled, angry at himself. He usually didn’t spend that much time and energy thinking about such nonsense. He decided he needed his violin to get away from it all and returned to the living room to fetch it. He was surprised to find John asleep in his chair. For how long had he been locked in his room? Trying his best to ignore the sleeping beauty, he picked up the violin and began to play a soft melody.  
……………………….  
John was surprised by how suddenly Sherlock had run away while he was washing the dishes. He heard him closing the bedroom door and felt secretly relieved. He was grateful for being alone for a few minutes; he was still embarrassed by what had happened during lunch. Embarrassed and also… pretty excited. That image of Sherlock kneeling between his legs was the cause of that uncomfortable heat in his crotch that he didn’t know how to get rid of. And then he had betrayed himself and practically revealed his fantasy by screaming that wasn’t a blowjob. He sighed and slowly dried the last plate with a tea towel. Never thought that the words Sherlock and blowjob could be in the same sentence, but now that he had it in his mind - it sounded good. More than good, in fact!

For a moment he thought about going up to his room and having a wank. But the last thing he needed at that moment was Sherlock having access to that kind of information about him, and knowing the dark-haired man… he would find out for sure. So, in order to control himself, he went back to the living room and collapsed on his chair. He closed his eyes, he had to be more careful. One thing was a little innocent flirting, but involving sex could not be a good idea. Eventually, he fell asleep without noticing it.

He dreamed of Sherlock playing violin, casting a spell on him that made him get up and walk over to the window, next to him. They looked each other in the eye for a long moment, before the detective put the instrument aside and… wait a second - if Sherlock was no longer holding the violin, why was the music still sounding? Slowly he realized that it was a dream, and that the dark-haired man was actually still playing the violin. He opened one eye and watched him for a couple of minutes.

“Did I wake you up?” Sherlock muttered stopping the music.  
“It’s okay.” John stretched in the chair. “I have to change my clothes before Phil comes anyway.” 

Sherlock didn’t reply, but the fact that John wanted to look nice for his friend made him angry again. He turned to the window again and played a chain of irritating sounds.

At the same time that John was descending the stairs again he heard the doorbell and he almost jumped down to the first floor to open the door himself.  
Although Sherlock was still “playing” , he also had heard the bell, the voices and nervous laughs in the background, the sounds of steps of two people coming up a few seconds later. He decided to make even more noise to welcome their guest. If he had not been “playing” he would have realized earlier that there was something unusual about those sounds. But for once in a lifetime, it escaped to him. In his mind he counted the seconds it would take them to climb up the 17 steps, and when  
he knew they were at their door he turned round dramatically in order to take a quick look of that Phil guy.

For almost a whole minute there was only silence.

John enjoyed the moment; Sherlock confused and even lost, trying with all his will to hide the surprise on his face, still the violin bow in the air. He finally took pity on his friend and cleared his throat.

“Sherlock, this is Major Phyllis Carver.”

Sherlock’s brain still needed ten seconds to reset and be back in service again.  
A woman? How on earth could Phil be a woman?

He left the violin aside and stared at her for a moment. She was tall and attractive, military demeanour emanated from her, but at the same time, her elaborate make-up and auburn hair tied back made it clear that she didn’t intend to give up the feminine side of her.

“Sherlock?” John tried to get his attention back. But Sherlock said nothing.

The woman smiled for a moment and then turned to John while she took her dark green coat off.

“Actually,” she spoke for the first time “is not Major anymore.”

John looked at the stripe on her uniform and immediately straightened himself up and saluted her.  
“Colonel!”  
“Rest, Captain” She said smiling.

John relaxed and smiled widely.  
“What a surprise. When did it happen?”  
“A few months ago. I’m not used to it yet.”  
“Colonel Carver.”  
“Stop teasing me!”  
“Congratulations.”  
“Thank you. So this is the famous detectives’ headquarters.”  
“Here we work, yes.”  
“I work here.” Sherlock spoke for the first time. “You make tea for me.”

John showed his experience and diplomacy resolving such situations in their favour.

“Speaking of which, do you want to eat something, Phil?”  
“I only have time for a quick coffee, sorry.”  
“Well, sit down. It only takes a couple of minutes.” John went to the kitchen and she followed him.  
“I only have twenty minutes, and I have already spent 3 minutes and 26 seconds.”  
“I had forgotten you are able to do that without a glance to the clock.” John looked pretty amazed.

Sherlock stayed next to the window, re-evaluating the situation. First John had set a trap for him, and then he was ignored both by him and his visitor. And now John was looking at the woman with an admiration that should be reserved just for him. That was simply intolerable. He passed through the kitchen and went into his room once more.

“I apologize for Sherlock’s behaviour.” John lowered his voice.  
“Don’t worry. From your blog I imagined he was like this.”  
“Speaking of which, I’m dying of shame here.”  
“C’mon. Your civil life is pretty amazing.” Phyllis examined the experiment on the table. “I didn’t know you were shot.”

John swallowed.  
“Only three weeks after you left.”  
“I have seen the report. You saved the life of a good man.”  
“I was the doctor in the unit, I wouldn’t have left him behind.” He raised his head to look at her.

Phyllis nodded.  
“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it. Do you know that Lt. Elliott finally got married?”  
“With that girl he could not stop talking about?”  
“Yes.”  
“I’m glad to hear it. Tell him hello for me.”  
“I will.”  
“Well, coffee is ready.” He handed a cup to her. “How much time left do we have?”  
“14 minutes and 10 seconds.”  
.......................................

When Phyllis was gone John remained strangely sad. He didn’t have many good memories from Afghanistan, but some of the few that he kept were related to the few weeks that she spent there with them. He sat on the couch and switched the TV on trying to distract himself and to think about something else. At that moment they were showing the crappy Saturday afternoon movie, he tried to follow the plot but soon his mind began to wander again, accompanied by the rhythmic sound of the rain against the window.

“You deceived me deliberately.”

John almost jumped from the couch when he heard the deep voice of Sherlock from somewhere not far from him. He blinked several times before realizing he was right in front of him.

“Not at all. If you think about it, you’ll notice that I never used the masculine gender referring to her. You took it for granted.”

(You damned lawyers, always so mysterious.)  
(Who was that?)  
(That was Major Phil Carver, from the United States Marine Corps.)  
(I thought you said he was a lawyer.)  
(Right. A Marine and a lawyer.)

Sherlock shook his head.

“And calling her Phil on purpose doesn’t count, of course.”  
“It is her name.” John shrugged.  
“Please.” Sherlock snorted angry.  
“It is not you who always says that there is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact?”  
“You were in love with her.”

John frowned at the abrupt sudden of the conversation.

“Everybody was in love with her. She’s lethal in court as well as on the battlefield, and well, you have already seen her.”  
“I have seen her unhappiness and loneliness hidden under a successful career as a military lawyer, yes.”

John got up and took a step towards him.

“Can you tell me why are you really so pissed off? It was because, for once, it was me who left you speechless? It was because you thought she was a man? Or because you believe that I feel or felt something for her?  
“Actually I am so... pissed off, as you say, because you cheated.”  
“You are right.” John looked him in the eye. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I couldn’t resist the temptation of having a winner card in my hand.”  
“I’m not finished.”  
“No?”  
“I’m pissed off because I spent all this afternoon thinking that Phyllis was a man.”  
“That was the whole point of it, yes.”  
“It was obvious that you had a strong emotional connection with him.”  
“So?”  
“That she was supposed to be a man.”  
“And?”

Sherlock looked away. John tilted his head slightly when he finally understood what the problem was.

“And you believed that I had feelings for a man who was not you.”  
“Do you have them? Feelings for me?” asked the detective quickly.  
“You know I do.” Whispered John.

They both looked at each other’s eyes. As they talked, and without noticing it, they had came very close. John took a deep breath.

“Will you run away if I kiss you?”  
“As if I could ever run away from your side.”

Sherlock leaned over, he rubbed his cheek against John’s, and then he did the same with his nose, his lips still far from its goal.

“You played a dirty trick on me today.” He whispered in a sickly-sweet voice.  
“It was not what…” 

But he could not finish the sentence because Sherlock’s lips met his. Shyly he opened his mouth and felt Sherlock's tongue against his. He gripped the fabric of his shirt, trying to anchor himself to a piece of reality. Sherlock slowly stroked his lips for a few seconds, but when their tongues met again the time seemed to accelerate and the kiss became hot and frantic. John felt Sherlock’s arms encircling his waist and pressed himself against his lean body, sliding his hands from his chest to his neck, hugging him tightly.

It was supposed to be something weird, but it wasn’t. It was new and exciting. He had never been kissed like that and John was happily letting Sherlock do it, and letting himself feel the force of their embrace. When they parted both were panting, needing to get some oxygen back to their lungs. John laughed and Sherlock looked at him puzzled.

“Don’t tell me. This is the most ridiculous thing you’ve done in your life.”  
“This is the best thing I’ve done in my life.” John answered still smiling.  
“Do you think it is too soon to sleep together tonight?” Asked Sherlock, ready to have everything or nothing now.  
“Yes.”  
“Oh”  
“It is too soon because it’s only 8 sharp.”

Sherlock gave him a broad smile as he got the joke.

“But we can watch the TV for a while.” John said pointing to the couch. “What do you think?”  
“I could shout at the screen now, yes.”

So John flopped on the couch and Sherlock sat beside him. At first he sat at the other side, but he got closer gradually. And only ten minutes later they were cuddling and kissing like teens. Not like confused teens anymore, but like hot and desperate ones. And good things can come of that as well.

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching JAG and thought about putting together Mac and John.  
> I don't have patience enough to write a long fic, and less a crossover. So in the end.... Phillys was born.  
> But yeah, she and Mac... twin sisters.
> 
> I don't belong JAG, nor Sherlock, btw.
> 
> Special thanks for those two wonderful Tumblr betas who have helped me to review this and gave me courage to publish it. They know who they are. Thank you, babies! :) 
> 
> NO CHERRY TOMATO WAS HARMED DURING THE PRODUCTION OF THIS STORY


End file.
